


A Period of Grief

by Scotty1609



Series: The Littlest Winchester [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Big Brothers, Caring Dean Winchester, Caring Sam Winchester, Eww, Gen, Mention of Character Death, Protective Dean Winchester, Winchester Sister, awesome big brothers, chick flick moments, motels suck, periods and menustration
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-01
Updated: 2014-06-01
Packaged: 2018-01-27 21:16:02
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,411
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1722791
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Scotty1609/pseuds/Scotty1609
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the death of John Winchester, the boys get back on the road with their little sister, none of the siblings truly ready to move on. A little bump in the road, however, unexpectedly brings them together. a.k.a., Sam and Dean have to deal with their little sister getting her period for the first time, and chick-flick moments are had.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Period of Grief

**Author's Note:**

> I don't own Supernatural, and this is my first SPN fic to post. I hope you like it!!!  
> WARNING(S): Mentions of that time of the month and un-beta'd!!!

It was not that she was a sheltered child; far from it, actually. Moving around so much in middle school and her first few years of high school got her a taste of all sorts of environments and people, upper class and lower class and middle class, the gritty kids of downtown and cities and the innocent kids of the country. Her brothers were a big part of ruining her childhood as well. Dean was boastful about his private time with his temporary girlfriends and, on the odd occasion, boyfriends, not caring whether or not she 'overheard' while he was bragging to Sam. Sam would blush and punch his brother's arm, tell him to shut up and nod towards her. Then Dean would laugh and say “It's not like she ain't heard of a BJ before, Sammy,” but would stop his tirades. She had a bit of hands-on experience, too. Not much, but fondling and groping during heated make-out session did count for something, if not something small.

So, no, she was not a sheltered child, although growing up without a female figure to look up to and ask 'feminine' questions to had certainly taken a toll on her. She knew the basics- that girls bled once a month and that they could get pregnant once that started- but the details were particularly fuzzy. She had gone to John once, around when she was thirteen, and asked him about it. The man simply blushed and shook his head, saying that he would tell her when the time was right. Now, though, John was dead, leaving the sixteen-year-old girl alone on the road with her two older brothers, twenty-two and twenty-six respectively. Currently, Dean was driving down a long expanse of asphalt with Sam in the back, sprawled out asleep with an arm over his eyes. Beth rode up in the passenger seat, knees tucked beneath her chin as she skimmed a few articles for her classes. She took online classes, now, with Sam as her personal tutor.

“Thinkin' about stopping at the next motel we see,” Dean broke the quiet, turning down the music. Beth looked over at him, and he continued. “It's still a ways to Bobby's, and we're all beat. Wake Sam up, wouldja? We outta grab some grub before we settle.”

Beth had no idea where Dean was intending to find food or a bed with the fields that surrounded them, but she dutifully turned and shook Sam awake all the same. “Stopping soon,” she said in a tired, broken voice. The happy act Dean was putting on for her had yet to rub off, and she could only think about her father, lying stone cold on the hospital floor with Sam frantically performing CPR.

Sam startled awake and cursed at Dean for a few minutes before asking where they would be stopping. Dean simply said “soon”, leaving the conversation at a halt.

It was not a half hour later that a small Motel 8 appeared in their view, the neon sign flickering in the dusk and letters falling off the sign. “We'll get crabs if we stay there,” Sam grumbled, following Dean out of the car. Typically Beth would agree with him, muttering a sarcastic remark under her breath that would make both her brothers laugh, but she was not feeling up to it today. Her father's death was still heavy on her heart- not that she thought her brothers were not effected by it, for she could certainly see how they were. Dean was a mass of anger, trying his best not to show it. Beth had seen it in his eyes, though, when he destroyed the Impala while he thought no one was looking. She had seen it in his taut muscles and roars of anguish. She saw it in Sam, too. The cloud of guilt that followed him around was so thick it was almost tangible. He slouched more, now, his bangs brushed apart and showing more of his torn, pained eyes whenever he saw the new Impala or Dean's leather jacket. It was the little things that made them all hurt.

Dean asked for one room, two beds. It was the usual for them. If there was a couch in the rooms, Beth would normally sleep on it. Being the smallest of the Winchesters had very few props to it. Usually, though, there were only the two queen beds, like how there were in the room Dean had checked out for them. Sam and Dean dropped their bags next to their claimed beds, Sam announcing he would take the first shower. Beth had until bedtime to decide which of her brothers to sleep with. When she was younger, she would trade off beds, feeling guilty about spending more time with one brother. After Sam shot up in height at sixteen, though, she began to bed with Dean. The oldest child made up for the change by sleeping in a starfish pose, practically pushing Beth from the bed every night. In the end, she normally slept with Sam in order to keep away from Dean's grabby hands and cuddle-seeking arms.

“Yo, Beth, are you listening?”

Beth snapped to attention, looking at Dean with wide eyes. “Yeah?”

“I asked if you were okay. You look pale.”

Beth pursed her lips. “I'm fine.”

Dean gave her an incredulous look, his green eyes peering into her, trying to read her. She was too depressed at the moment to put up a facade, so she turned away and plopped onto the bed, burying her face in the pillow. The sheets were scratchy and the pillowcases even more so, but they smelled clean, which was all that really mattered.

“Let me know if you're gonna hurl or need an Advil, alright?”

“I'm fine.”

Truth be told, though, she felt terrible. Pangs in her stomach stretched and clawed at her lower back and hips, throbbing pulses that made tears come to her eyes. She had a head ache to match it, and to top it all off, she felt as though she was running a fever. Beth could feel Dean's eyes hovering over her for a few moments before he finally wandered off to find food, taking one of the two roomkeys with him.

Closing her eyes, Beth took in a deep breath and tried to still the pounding of her brain against her skull, to no avail. After a few minutes, the teenager let a low sob wretch itself from her burning throat. If her father was here, he would tell her to suck it up and send her for a short nap before training. When she woke up, though, there would be Ibuprofin and a Gatorade next to her bedside, an extra blanket tucked around her. And when she showed up for training, it would be something easy like target practice or Latin recitations. John appeared cruel- perhaps it was something with his weathered eyes and dark face- but he had a soft spot for each of his children. Beth's was a tad larger, her being the only girl, but that did not mean John was any easier with the training on her. If anything, he was harder, looker to make his only daughter stronger so that she would be able to take care of herself with her brothers could not protect her.

“Beth?”

Sam had a towel around his neck, his hair wet and plastered to his forehead and cheeks. He wore sweatpants low on his hips and was struggling to find a shirt when he saw his little sister writhing around on the bed. “You okay?”

“Fine,” Beth grunted, the pangs in her stomach sharpening. “Just tired.”

Sam blinked at her, waited a moment, blinked again. He then sighed and sat next to her prone form, raising a hand to her back and rubbing circles between her shoulder blades. His hand provided a warm comfort that made Beth hum in satisfaction, eyes closing as she tried to lull herself to sleep.

“Do you want to talk?”

Sam was the gentle brother, the one who wore his heart on his sleeve. He was the one who stayed up late at night talking to Beth because a boy broke her heart or a friend of hers proved themselves no longer a friend. Even while he was at Stanford, Sam and Beth called each other at least once a week to chat about different things- the weather, their stubborn family, school- often times randomating the topic simply to hear each others voices for a little bit longer. Sam enjoyed talking about Jess, and it saddened Beth that she never got to meet the woman. Jess sounded like a joy to be around, a sisterly companion who would be appreciated in Beth's world of men.

Sam patted Beth's back, leaning over and kissing her forehead. “Try to sleep, okay?”

“Mm'kay.”

He kissed her forehead once more before going back to digging in his laundry.

Dean came back with vending machine snacks a few minutes later. While he and Sam feasted, Beth chose to stay in bed and try to sleep. Along with the horrid cramps in her stomach and head, a dreary tiredness settled around her and made her bones ache. She wanted to cry, to scream, to throw up- all of which were out of the question while her brothers were in the room. So, she simply closed her eyes and tried to rest.

It was not until the bed shifted to allow for Sam to get in and rest next to her, a large personal heater in the chilly motel room, and the white noise of the shower began, signaling Dean was readying himself for bed, that Beth was able to drift off into a deep sleep.

 

~SPN~SPN~SPN~SPN~SPN~

 

Sometime during the middle of the night, Sam had shifted to where his arm was resting atop Beth's shoulders. She leaned into the touch, humming in contentment. Her cell phone said it was nearly five in the morning, much too early to get up and much too late to get back to sleep. Cramps having subsided some in the night, Beth now only felt a slight tinge of pain when she shifted onto her stomach. She took this as a win, though, accepting her fate of constant pain for what it was. Her headache had not left, but had only worsened, making her whimper and shift into her brother's touch more. When she shifted, Beth felt something wet between her legs. Her face turned pink and was lit a fire as she cursed. She had not wet the bed since before she was eight, and that had only been after a terrible hunt that left Dean and John injured and Sam wailing from night terrors. Blinking in the dark morning, Beth pulled the covers up and reached down, touching her crotch gingerly. It hurt to touch, and she cursed again at the pain, tears coming to her eyes. She brought her hand back up to her face, smelling something coppery and feeling a sticky substance on her fingertips.

“B-Blood?” she hissed, eyes widening at the realization.

Beth was not sheltered, but living with men all her life had not prepared her for this. She was already going through psychological warfare with the death of her father, but now this? She did not _want_ to be a woman. She wanted to be a girl, be a little child who her father could take up on his knee and who her brothers could play patty-cake and soccer with. She most certainly did _not_ want to bleed once a month from her nether regions.

“Beth?” came Sam's sleepy croak. Beth's face turned red and her breath came in panicked puffs. “What's wrong?” Before Beth could come up with a good excuse, Sam had shifted to look at her and had noticed her pale face and fearful eyes. After sniffing the air, he also noticed the scent of blood. “Shit! Beth, are you hurt?” Sam was wide awake now, tugging on the lamp light. “Dean, wake up, Beth's hurt-”

“No, I'm not!” Beth insisted, pulling the sheets around herself and burrowing her face into her knees. Blood soaked her pajama pants and underwear, wetting the bed and blankets around her. It seemed like so much more than it was, but even the small amount made her panic. Some of it had dried already and was caked to the inside of her thighs, making her pants stick to her skin uncomfortably.

Dean was shifting awake, half asleep still and half shouting at Sam to get the first aid kit. Beth was mortified by now, hot tears running down her cheeks while Dean tried to wrestle her hands away from her face. “Beth, we can smell the blood. Where are you hurt? Tell me now, so we can fix it.” Sam darted over with the first aid kit, readying gauze and tissues for sopping up the blood.

“I'm not hurt!” Beth sobbed out, eyes red. “Just leave me alone!”

“Beth, if you don't tell me where you're hurt, so help me I will-”

“Dean.”

“Not now, Sam-”

“ _Dean_.”

“What?”

Sam had figured it out, Beth could tell by the look on his face. His eyes had softened from panicked to compassionate, and Beth was reminded that he had probably been through something similar to this with Jess. “Beth, go wash up, okay?”

Still embarrassed and blushing like a freight train, Beth scrambled from the covers and shut herself in the bathroom just in time to hear Dean ask, “What the hell was that?”. Slamming the door shut and locking it tight, Beth peeled her pants and underwear from her body, her shirt and bra following shortly as she turned on warm water. The tub, fortunately, seemed clean as well, so Beth lowered herself into it with a rag and a bar of soap. She gently cleaned herself off, tears of embarrassment and frustration falling freely now and dripping from her cheeks to the tub. A broken sob tore from her throat, and Beth screwed her face up. If only her father could see her now.

She was supposed to be strong. She was not a wuss, she was a soldier. She could do this. So what if she had no clue what  _this_ entailed, so what if her cramps had suddenly returned with a vengeance and her headache was making it impossible to see straight? So what that she had mortified herself in front of Sam and Dean, most likely having bled onto the mattress and staining it for years to come? So what? She was a hunter, a soldier, a Winchester. And Winchesters did not cry, certainly not about becoming women.

_Knock, knock, knock_ came a noise at the door. It was a gentle knock, a simple rap with the back of the knuckles. “Beth?” came Dean's voice from the other side, soft and kind. It had been a long time since she had heard Dean's voice sound like that, and it startled her enough to make her reply without thinking.

“What?”

Her throat was thick, nose stuffed from crying, and she knew Dean would be able to hear it in her voice. If he did, though, he did not let it show. “Sam went to get you some stuff. Can I come in?”

“No!”

“Beth...”

“No, Dean!”

A sigh. “Fine, then. We'll just have to do this the hard way.” She heard Dean's back sliding down the door, and his voice came louder as he neared the crack between the tiles and the wood. “You shouldn't be embarrassed, Bethie. This is... natural. You're a chick, you're gonna have a period sooner or later.” It was juvenile, but hearing her older brother say the word made her blush. “I'm sorry it had to come like this, but it had to come eventually... Beth?”

“Hmm.”

“Just makin' sure you ain't drowned yet.”

This earned a giggle from the girl, and she could have sworn she felt Dean's grin from the other side of the door. He continued to speak. “I know Dad didn't touch much on this subject with you, and I'm sorry it had to be like that, but me and Sammy are here for you now. We don't know much about all this, and we know you don't either, but we can work through it together- no matter how embarrassing it may feel, alright?”

Beth blinked harshly, her tears turning from ones of embarrassment and frustration to ones of happiness. Who would have thought that a period could have brought her brothers back to her after their father's death?

Dean began to speak again. “So, if you've got any questions or you need anything, anything at all, you tell us from now on, okay? Don't try to keep secrets, because you'll only end up hurting. And I don't- I  _can't_ \- see you get hurt. Understand?”

Beth nodded before remembering Dean could not see her and yelped out a “Yeah-huh!”. A few minutes of silence later, the door to the motel room opened and Beth could hear Sam's heavy feet lumbering over to the door. “Bethie?” his voice hollared not long after. “I got you some of everything I could think of. Pads and tampons and the little good-smelling spray and all that. Can you open the door?”

Beth dried off, wrapping herself in multiple towels before draining the pink-tinged water from the bath and cracking the door open. Dean and Sam were there, both still in their pajamas but both wearing relieved smiles at seeing their little sister whole. Dean handed her clothes, and Beth changed quickly while Sam laid everything down on the bed. Beth was relieved to see that someone had cleaned it up, replacing the sheets and comforter with fresh ones.

And that was how Dean and Sam ended up sitting on the floor with their little sister, conversing about feminine wash and tampons. It was a painfully awkward conversation, one that involved a lot of Googling and texting Missouri Mosely for assistance, but still a beneficial conversation. Dean did an excellent job of not making crude jokes and going over tampon instructions without turning purple. It made Beth proud to see her oldest brother act so mature, so compassionate. Sam had a bit of practice at the feminine ways and was able to assist Beth with many of her questions, but the teenager still had many more she was too shy to ask or was uncomfortable asking her brother for. Sam loaned her his computer for research into the feminine physique, and Beth had a long conversation with Missouri on the phone. Sam and Dean went to get food around noon, leaving Beth to attempt a tampon by herself. She decided to stick with pads for a while after a job badly done.

When Sam and Dean got back, they seemed happier, lighter. The evident sorrow of losing their father was still imminent, but the brothers were actually smiling and laughing over something as they put macaroni and hamburgers down on the coffee table. Beth grinned at them, having taken some Midol that Sam brought for her- which helped her feel exponentially better- and ate two burgers. The siblings sat, talked, laughed, and reconciled for at least three hours before deciding to get back on the road.

As she packed her things away into the trunk of the Impala, Beth took in her brothers arguing over a map, allowing a nostalgic smile to cover her features. She was still filled with sorrow about her father, but something had changed that day. She was a woman, now, strong with her brothers to back her up. She was not weak because of her lack of knowledge, but she was strong because she had so much to learn. Even if it was all about periods and puberty, Beth was eager to learn from her brothers- and outside help, of course- and share something more with Sam and Dean. Most girls would be embarrassed, she supposed, and she was to an extent, but with the way her brothers were accepting her- arms open and minds erased of all jokes on the subject of her womanhood- Beth felt a new sort of kinship with them stirring in her chest. She was not a sheltered child, and growing up with all men was taking on a new sort of ring to it.

 

 


End file.
